


in this music the world has begun

by ava_lava



Category: Super Junior-M, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 21:27:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1319812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ava_lava/pseuds/ava_lava
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Sometimes Kyuhyun would look in the mirror and see a different version of himself, only to blink and have that image disappear like it was never there. It would take all his strength not to throw his fist at the glass and scream for that reflection to return to him. Sometimes Zhou Mi would lie awake at night, unable to sleep as his treacherous mind spun a black web of doubts and lies that plagued him until he thought he would stop breathing.</p>
</blockquote>This was a joy to write. It gave me yet another excuse to reread my Tolkien collection. I hope you like it despite it not being quite what you asked for. Beta'd by the amazing static_abyss.
            </blockquote>





	in this music the world has begun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loey/gifts).
  * Inspired by [strung-out old stars](https://archiveofourown.org/works/876374) by [evocates](https://archiveofourown.org/users/evocates/pseuds/evocates). 



“Go in peace! I will not say: do not weep, for not all tears are an evil.”  
\- Gandalf, _The Return of the King_ , Volume III Book VI of _The Lord of the Rings_ by J.R.R. Tolkien

 

_The will of Ulmo was a mystery to all those who bore witness to the cradle that floated south along the River Anduin, and anchored itself onto the shore along the outskirts of Mirkwood. There the elf prince Kyuhyun stood, cold and fair, and after a moment of hesitation he approached and found the cradle to be inhabited. The little creature wrapped in the bundle of old blankets was quiet._

_Immediately he knew it was not an Elven child, for the Elves very rarely sleep. He plucked the baby from its makeshift bed and ran his finger down its cheek, almost smiling when it slowly woke from its slumber and started gurgling happily._

__Such brown eyes _, Kyuhyun mused, allowing the baby to grab onto his finger._

_“Your Highness,” his second-in-command, Donghae, called from the banks, a hint of a question coating his words. “A red sun rises.”_

_Kyuhyun looked to the sky and his face grew grim. “Indeed. We must make haste to the safety of my mother’s kingdom.”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

_Donghae made to take the cradle from the prince’s arms, but then something fiercely protective started to burn within Kyuhyun, and he flinched away, three steps from drawing an arrow on his friend._

_“I will carry him,” he stated, a strange burst of ice and fire coating his words. Donghae only nodded and made his way into the safety of the trees, footsteps light and practiced. Kyuhyun followed, the cradle heavy in his arms but it did not hinder his pace—quick on his feet was he, the young prince of Mirkwood, quickest of all the Sindar._

_Indeed, Ulmo must have saved this child for some greater purpose, and thus the Ainur were merciful. In the case of the young elf prince, Ulmo saved this baby to be both his life and his death._

 

Kyuhyun grew up feeling like there was something wrong with him. 

He felt too old and too young. His body aged too quickly, and yet his mind was too empty. His eyes were the wrong color, dark and unwise, a mere shadow of what he knew them to be. His hair looked wrong, too curly and too short when it should have been straight and long. His father had scoffed and said long hair was for sissies, so Kyuhyun never dared to mention it again. His ears were wrong as well, round and blunt and nothing out of the ordinary. The words spoken to him were foreign; the words that left his lips felt queer.

Even his surroundings were wrong. There were too many buildings—where were the trees, the ones that grew so tall that they could have conversations with the sky, the ones that sang and laughed and recited poetry?

When Kyuhyun was six years old, he tried talking to the oak tree in his back yard, the old withered remains of what Kyuhyun was convinced was once a tree of great majesty and pride. He sat beside it and whispered words that he knew once, long ago. Sometimes he leaned against it with a sketchpad in his lap and started to draw patterns on the white pages, patterns of steel and silk, leaves and bark. He drew creatures that he met in his dreams, like the little people with pointy ears and hairy feet, or the wolves with red eyes and malicious snarls. The oak tree would never say anything, but Kyuhyun felt deep in his heart that it was listening.

His parents worried. His teachers did not know how to deal with him. His peers found him odd. 

Kyuhyun’s habit of talking to trees and staring into a place only he could see led to endless therapy sessions and examinations. His parents loved him, but there was unmistakable disappointment in their eyes whenever they looked at him. They wished he was more normal—and for a while Kyuhyun himself wished the same.

 

_Zhou Mi grew quickly, much more quickly than the other Elven children, but despite this he still felt too young in the face of all the wisdom seen around him. As he grew to become a child of inquisitive nature, he started to realize that he was different and it discomforted him. He started noticing his weaknesses, such as the fact that he needed to rest while the other children continued to play, laugh, and learn about beautiful things._

_“It is normal for Men to easily tire,” the High Elves had assured him. “Do not trouble yourself so—even the Elven need rest every once in a century.”_

_Still, it gnawed at Zhou Mi’s heart, and he wondered if he would ever feel anything less than alien._

_Reading about the lore of Men did nothing to ease his qualms. There were so many instances of hate and betrayal in the tales of Men that were not found as often in the history of the Sindar. He was a part of the race of Men, a race beneath that with which he grew up, one that was so easily corrupted by things as frivolous as power and jewels._

_Indeed, the one comforting thought he held onto with all his might was that he was held in high regard by the Prince Kyuhyun himself. Since his infancy, the young prince had taken a great interest in him, and often accompanied him on walks or told him great tales in the kingdom’s expansive library. To most others Kyuhyun was aloof and proper, but in front of the human child, he seemed to smile more often._

_Zhou Mi looked forward to their evening walks, the only time Prince Kyuhyun was completely his. Usually the elf was accompanied by his second-in-command, and though Zhou Mi loved Donghae like a brother, he was selfish ( _another human trait_ , he thought to himself disdainfully) where the prince was concerned—and Kyuhyun was generous to satiate Zhou Mi’s human selfishness._

_The times Zhou Mi spent with him were the happiest of his life._

 

There were worse jobs. He could have been working in a cubicle in a claustrophobic office. He could have had the graveyard shift as a cemetery worker. God forbid, he could have been a lawyer like his parents had always wanted him to be.

Putting that into perspective made Kyuhyun’s day at his little coffee shop more bearable. 

Do not be misled—he loved his little coffee shop. It was a quaint little place, decorated in his favorite shades of brown and green. He had dropped out of his dreary university against his parents’ wishes to start it up, and the despite rocky start he never regretted it for a second. He felt more at home in _Mirkwood Café_ than he ever felt anywhere else. Often he spent more time in the place than he did at his cramped apartment.

“It’s my little kingdom,” he would explain when asked about his obsession with the place. “And I’m the prince.”

Still, his whole life felt off. He was not meant to be a barista. He was not meant to paste on that fake smile and say _Hello, welcome to_ Mirkwood Café _, what would you like today? Would you like cream and sugar with that? That will be six dollars. Thank you and come again_. The juxtaposition between what he felt and what he did was stark and painful. He belonged in a forest, where the trees kept him company and the wind caressed his long hair.

Kyuhyun grimaced. There were no forests within a five-mile radius where he lived, and hell if he knew anything about living alone in the wilderness. 

He found home on a rainy afternoon when a tall man with a big smile and even bigger nose walked into his café drenched from head to toe.

“Hello, my name is Kyuhyun. How can I help you?” Kyuhyun greeted as politely as he could. 

“A _Misty Mountain_ , please,” the man replied, fishing for his wallet. 

Kyuhyun side-eyed his soaked customer and raised a brow. “The _Misty Mountain_ only comes in dwarf size. May I interest you in a _Gondorian Brew_? You seem like you need an extra bout of energy.”

The man laughed. His teeth were blindingly white. “I do look like a mess, don’t I? Thank you, a _Gondorian Brew_ sounds lovely.”

Kyuhyun smirked and scooped several little cups of coffee beans as he readied the grinder. Meanwhile, the man’s eyes drifted upwards.

“May I ask what that painting over there is?”

Hung at the back of the shop was one of Kyuhyun’s larger works that he painted while in a deep depression back in university—his last painting before handing in his academic withdrawal form—of a glade by a running brook. “It’s one of mine,” he mumbled, eyes downcast. Staring at that painting always made him sad and he had no idea why.

“Oh. Wow, that’s—that’s amazing. You’re very talented.” The man giggled through his stammering. “I’m sorry, I just—for a split second I thought it looked familiar, like I’ve been there before. I have this faint memory of dancing and singing some gibberish song. Oh, how did it go? _Tinuviel elvanui, elleth alfirin edhelhael_ —”

If Kyuhyun were more human and did not possess the ethereal grace that unnerved his peers, he would have dropped the man’s coffee order in shock. Suddenly a swarm of words that made no sense filled his head. Yet they did make sense, for he understood everything—but how could he when he had never heard them before (or had he?). 

“ _O hon ring finnil fuinui_ ,” he continued tentatively, slightly off-key, wandering. “ _A renc gelebrin thiliol_.”

The man stood there, mouth agape, and the two of them could have stared at each other forever if not for the especially disgruntled customer next in line who cleared his throat impatiently. Kyuhyun blushed and apologized profusely, snapping back to work mode as he quickly wrapped up the order and restarted the coffeemaker. 

“My name is Zhou Mi,” the man blurted out, still slightly awestruck.

Kyuhyun looked up from the counter and handed him his drink. Their fingers touched and his mouth ran dry. 

_Such brown eyes,_ he noted. 

“I’m Kyuhyun.”

 

_Zhou Mi loved listening to Kyuhyun talk. The prince was young by Elven standards, barely past the age of adulthood. He was born in Middle-earth and had never seen the shores of Valinor, nor felt the yearning for the Sea. He had a fondness for Elven history, however, and often told the young Zhou Mi of his studies._

_“Lord Amroth, son of Amdír, was a noble Sindarin Elf,” Kyuhyun started off in his mock imperial voice._

_“Just like you!” Zhou Mi insisted, a grin splitting his cherubic face in half. It made the prince laugh. “The noblest Elf in all of Middle-earth!”_

_“Lord Amroth ruled over the fair lands of Lothlórien. Nimrodel was his beloved, though they were not married.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“Nimrodel refused to marry while Middle-earth was in turmoil—she wanted to live in peace with her love, free from danger.” Kyuhyun smiled, and a light shone from his face. “She was strong and lovely, a twinkling star in daylight. Clad in white and gold, her hair blew in the wind and the sun kissed her face wherever she went. She dwelt beside a mountain stream to which she gave her name. Nimrodel was one of the fairest of the land.”_

_“Just like you!”_

_Kyuhyun smiled and blushed, and Zhou Mi’s insides churned happily. “However, times were dark. The horror that was awakened by the Dwarves from the deepest, darkest pits of Moria worried them both, and they decided to flee to safer lands where they could celebrate their love in peace. They journeyed south to Edhellond but were separated in the Ered Nimrais, the White Mountains. Amroth searched in vain but Nimrodel was nowhere to be found. Thus he had no choice but to continue his journey and wait for her at Edhellond.” Kyuhyun paused and looked at the young boy with sadness in his eyes. Zhou Mi wanted to clean them until there was nothing but joy. “He refused to leave his betrothed behind, and continued to delay his departure to Valinor despite the other Elves’ counsels. Weeks passed, and in the autumn, a storm broke loose, and it was so strong and so fearsome that it swept the ship out of port, far from the quay.”_

_“But Nimrodel was not on the ship! They couldn’t just leave her!”_

_“Amroth thought the same,” the prince continued sadly. “When he realized what had happened, he cried out in despair. In his grief, he threw himself into the sea to swim back to her.”_

_Zhou Mi held his breath. “Did he find her?”_

_Kyuhyun closed his eyes and grimness descended upon his face. Zhou Mi’s heart sank. He wanted to smooth those lines away._

_“No, he did not find her. Lord Amroth drowned in the Bay of Belfalas and never made his journey to the West. He was never seen in Middle-earth again.”_

_The perpetual smile on Zhou Mi’s face faded. “What happened to Nimrodel?”_

_“Nobody knows for sure. Some say that she refused to leave Middle-earth, for the love she had for the land was on par with the love she had for Amroth. Others say she was waylaid by unfriendly Men and other evil things while crossing the mountains. Still others believe she fell into a deep sleep of weariness near the river Gilrain, and only woke long after Amroth had thrown himself to sea, and they were reunited in the halls of Mandos.”_

_Zhou Mi thought for a moment. “I like the last explanation best.” He hated to think that Men were so cruel as to harm an Elf-maid._

_“So do I,” the prince admitted, taking the boy’s hand in his. “Do not frown, young one. It is a tragic tale, but it is beautiful nonetheless. To be honest, this tale is my favorite.”_

_This surprised Zhou Mi. “Why?” Kyuhyun was famed for his quickness in battle and loveliness of voice, but his cold demeanor betrayed nothing of sentiment. “I thought you loved ancient history, not Elven lore.”_

_“Lore is a descendant of ancient history. They go hand in hand in the tales of my people. Behind every story lies a truth, and this truth can be beautiful. I love the tale of Nimrodel because when you strip away the tragedy, pain, and misery on the surface, all you find is love underneath.” Kyuhyun smiled wistfully. “I hope one day to love somebody so much that I would be desperately lost without them.”_

_Not many knew of Kyuhyun’s fondness for romance. Zhou Mi knew better._

 

Zhou Mi stayed in the café until closing hours, long after his mug of _Gondorian Brew_ had run dry. He stared unabashed at the barista with a combination of awe and joy, and Kyuhyun should have felt unnerved at being stared at by a complete stranger 

But he wasn’t a complete stranger, was he? They knew each other long ago. He was important somehow.

“I have so many questions to ask you,” Zhou Mi blurted out the moment Kyuhyun finally closed up. “How long have you known? What do you know? What do you remember?”

“One question at a time,” the café owner chastised kindly. “I just sat down.”

Their conversation continued well into the night. They talked about the great rivers they never saw and the tall wise trees they never met. They shared their visions of the hidden palace, hidden away inside a cliff and protected by the dark shadows cast by the surrounding trees. They sang their songs of old, recited poetry from their long-lost memories, told stories that they had once written off as tales generated by an overactive imagination. 

“My goodness, all my life I thought that I was crazy. Nothing seemed right. My parents thought I was having an identity crisis. In many cases I was, but I always knew deep down that it wasn’t me. There was nothing wrong with me. There was just something wrong with my place in the world.” Zhou Mi took a breathy laugh, and the dimples on his cheeks deepened when he smiled. “Meeting you has been such a pleasure. It’s as if a weight has been lifted off of me.” 

“That brings up another question. What exactly are we? I’ve known my whole life that I’m not human.” _My ears are too blunt, my eyes stare back at me like a stranger in the mirror_.

“We were born in the wrong world. We had past lives and were misplaced somewhere along the way.” Zhou Mi lowered his gaze, suddenly somber. “We knew each other back in Middle-earth. I didn’t recognize you at first, but you have the same voice and the same look in your eyes. We were—” his fingers trailed uselessly in the air, “friends. Very good friends.”

Memories of scrutinizing pain flashed before Kyuhyun’s eyes, subconscious visions of tears, grief, mourning, but also love ( _so much love beneath all that misery_ ). There were no concrete images, just flashes of pain and the feeling of salty tears on his cheeks and this unending thumping of his heart whenever a pair of brown eyes turned his way. 

_I loved you,_ Kyuhyun realized with a start, averting his eyes quickly lest the blush crawling up the nape of his neck decided to spread even further.

“Do you think that there are others like us out there somewhere?”

“I hope not,” Kyuhyun murmured, thinking back to white sterile walls and unseeing eyes. “And if there are, I hope for their sake that they don’t remember anything.” 

Sometimes it was difficult for Kyuhyun to distinguish between the world he lived in and the world he belonged in. The lines were so blurred that they were almost one and the same place. (But they weren’t. They were two separate places and he could never go back). 

“It’s us two against the world. Maybe we are both crazy and just found another person who lives with the same type of crazy.”

Zhou Mi giggled. “Well, it’s better than being crazy alone.”

And it hit Kyuhyun with such force that yes, indeed, he was not alone in this strange, upside-down, blurred, _wrong_ world, not anymore. 

It was a welcome feeling.

 

_Zhou Mi was not yet sixteen years of age when he finally noticed that Kyuhyun was not only kind and wise and patient, but also fair and beautiful. He noted with some certainty that the young elf prince had always been beautiful, but suddenly it hit him with such force that Kyuhyun was, in fact, desirable._

_Kyuhyun was well-respected in Mirkwood. He was a fair commander who practiced justice and equality as well as mercy, and the trust his comrades had for him was such that they would follow him to the halls of Mandor without hesitation. Zhou Mi would go farther—he would follow him to the darkness of Melkor and more._

_He had never been one to hide his feelings. He was far too human in that sense—impulsive, transparent, _weak_ —and he loved with every fiber of his being. _

_It came as a surprise that nobody in Mirkwood had called him out on it. Nothing changed, not even his meetings with Kyuhyun. The prince treated him as he always did, with a fondness in his gaze and a twinkle in his usually distant grey eyes._

_Zhou Mi was unsure whether he wanted anything to change, and for years nothing did._

_Twenty-year-old Zhou Mi was tall, lithe and fair. The only giveaways of his Human origin were his rounded ears and young innocent eyes. The Elves watched him grow with a hint of awe—so fast was his blossoming._

_Before long, he had surpassed the prince in height to the point where Kyuhyun had to lift his eyes to meet Zhou Mi’s gaze. Still their evening walks were filled with tales and songs, and Zhou Mi’s heart threatened to burst, he could barely contain his happiness when he was with Kyuhyun._

_More years passed, and slowly Zhou Mi began to understand. Nothing changed because nothing_ had _changed. He had always been happier when in the prince’s company. He had always yearned for the steadfast presence the Elf provided. He had always loved Kyuhyun with every fibre of his being. Could it be that he had been in love with him for much longer than he realized—possibly his whole life?_

_One of Zhou Mi’s favorite tales was that of Beren and Lúthien. Lúthien had given up Elven immortality for the love of her life and died as a mortal woman, never to rejoin her people in the halls of Mandos. The Elves adored Lúthien, and all still grieved the Sindarin princess’s death, she who became lost to them when she chose to remain with Beren. Zhou Mi had loved that she stayed with Beren out of love, preferring to live a short life with him than an immortal one without._

_In a story, it was romantic. In reality, it was less so. Hence, Zhou Mi kept quiet for many years. He was happy living with the prince and loving him unrequitedly. Every moment with him was a treasure beyond price._

_But Eru Illúvatar was cruel, and soon Zhou Mi saw the same longing looks in Kyuhyun’s beautiful grey eyes. The fondness that usually greeted him turned into something warmer and far more dangerous._

_Zhou Mi’s happiness was overpowered by despair, and although he had everything he had ever wanted within his grasp, he had long realized that a happy ending was naught to be seen. He could not bear the thought of taking the Sindarin prince away from his people, towards the unavoidable heartbreak that was his death. Kyuhyun was still young and had centuries of immortal life ahead, while Zhou Mi would be lucky to see a few more decades._

_He was not going to be Kyuhyun’s Beren, not when the cost was so high._

_Thus, mere weeks before his thirtieth birthday, Zhou Mi made a choice and left the hidden kingdom on horseback during the wee hours of the night._

_He was never seen in Mirkwood again._

 

Their apartment was green and brown, filled with Kyuhyun’s paintings of trees and harps and faceless archers with pointy ears. Zhou Mi woke up every morning to the sound of soft humming from the shower, and went to bed with his nose nestled into the crook of his lover’s neck where his pulse was most prominent. (He’s real. You’re real. This is not a dream, not anymore). 

The world didn’t change for them, but they made do. 

(Three minutes after their first meeting at the coffee shop, they were friends. Three weeks later, they forgot what life was without the other.)

Things were still wrong, but that was to be expected. Kyuhyun still could not get used to how wrong his body felt, and Zhou Mi still doubted whether the stories in his head were real. There were times when they didn’t know where the fence between truth and untruth was placed. Were they just fictitious characters trapped in a separate construct of reality? Or were they three-dimensional beings confined in thin two-dimensional pages?

Was it that they became drawn to each other by a higher being, completely out of their control, or did their love spring from the regrets that festered in their past lives as pure recompense? Perhaps their whole life was fiction, just a story like the ones in their heads. Perhaps their love was just a weave of thread being tied around a series of chapters. 

Sometimes Kyuhyun would look in the mirror and see a different version of himself, only to blink and have that image disappear like it was never there. It would take all his strength not to throw his fist at the glass and scream for that reflection to return to him. Sometimes Zhou Mi would lie awake at night, unable to sleep as his treacherous mind spun a black web of doubts and lies that plagued him until he thought he would stop breathing.

But it had to be real. They felt it deep down in their bones. There were pangs of love long submerged, but also recent flashes that stole Kyuhyun’s breath away when Zhou Mi smiled. There was warmth that spread mutedly through their veins, but also powerful streams of happiness when Zhou Mi heard Kyuhyun’s soft warm voice.

Tragedy lived in their hearts, along with pain, sadness, and misery. But underneath it all, there would always be a flicker of light as bright as Elbereth herself. 

They did not belong in the world they lived in, but they did belong together and that was more than enough. In their eyes, they _were_ each other’s worlds.

 

**epilogue**

_Immortality was both a gift and a curse, and though Elves remained young throughout their lives, it did not mean that they were immune to the powers of the world. Death was a cycle in their life—their spirits were unending, and lived on long after their bodies were spent._

_Prince Kyuhyun’s father was a mighty king, but nobody could resist the will of Ulmo when the sound of his horn travelled across the sea, a calling for the Undying Lands. Kyuhyun never mourned his father. He knew he lived on in the beautiful white shores of Valinor, and that they would reunite when the time was right._

_However, when news came of Zhou Mi’s departure, Kyuhyun mourned. Hope mitigated the strain on his heart—hope that one day he would return—but when days became weeks, and weeks became years, his hope grew thinner and thinner until his knuckles were white from clinging so hard. The passing of time was quick to the Elves—a century was only a blink, a wrinkle—but time seemed to stop in Kyuhyun’s eyes. He was lost, and desperately so._

_Hope thinned further when the longing for the sea was roused in him, and he was reminded of his obedience to the summons of the Valar. Still he remained in Middle-earth and lingered, and the weariness bore down on him until his body grew thin. So stubborn he was, just for one last look at the brown eyes and bright smile he had fallen in love with. One by one he watched his friends set sail and leave him, even Donghae, whose longing for the sea grew too strong to be ignored._

_Finally he was laid to rest on the shores of Anduin, and was claimed by Nàmo and led to the halls of Mandos, for his body was not strong enough to withstand the sorrow of his spirit._

_Then Kyuhyun opened his eyes—were they his eyes or someone else’s?—and saw a hall of never-ending pillars of stone. Tapestries lined the walls in webs that spoke of legend and history alike._

_The threads told stories, both beautiful and terrible. On one tapestry, the shaping of Arda was depicted, so glorious was the sight that Kyuhyun would have wept if he had tears. Another told the tragic story of Húrin, and the fate of his children at the hands of Morgoth. Still others told of the rich history of Durin’s folk, starting from their secret awakening by Aulë to the quest for Erebor._

_Then he came upon a tapestry that made his heart stop, for a single thread spun by the hand of Vairë the Weaver spoke of an orphaned baby who became a happy adolescent desperate to prove his worth, who in turn grew into an honorable Man who loved too much. It told the story of how this man integrated well with the Men of the North but longed for the feel of an Elven cloak rather than worn manmade steel. In his lifetime, he travelled Middle-earth seeking something he was unable to find, and in old age, he was laid to rest, still searching._

_A great sadness filled Kyuhyun’s heart. He grieved for the life he could have led—the happiness that had slipped through his fingers, leaving him lost and without purpose. He wished with all his heart to be reunited with the baby he found on the shores of Mirkwood and the man he lost in the middle of the night._

_Thus, the once proud and fair Prince Kyuhyun was completely consumed by grief, and closed his eyes to welcome the darkness._

_But unbeknownst to him, Manwë was listening, and millions of years after the time of Arda ended, Zhou Mi found what he was looking for in a coffee shop called Mirkwood._

 

“Among the tales of sorrow and of ruin that come down to us from the darkness of those days there are yet some in which amid weeping there is joy and under the shadow of death light that endures.”  
\- J.R.R. Tolkien, _Of Beren and Lúthien_ from _The Silmarilion_

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously this was highly inspired by the works of Tolkien. Most of the Tolkien references were borrowed heavily from _The Silmarillion_. There is also material from _Unfinished Tales of Númenor and Middle-earth_ , particularly that of Nimrodel. I tried my best to fit most of this fic within the Tolkien canon universe in terms of maps, timelines and cultural practices. If there are any inconsistencies, please let me know.


End file.
